Synthesis
by aceupthesleeve
Summary: "I'm not her," Shepard whispers apologetically, breaking Garrus' heart all over again. "I wish I could be the person that you loved, but she died on the Citadel three years ago." The mystery of Shepard's return will throw Kaidan and Garrus' world upside-down.
1. Chapter 1

Garrus was helping _keep the peace_ on Earth when he was contacted by Liara T'soni for the first time in years.

He had the decency to feel a slight pang of guilt when he realized that the unmarked message sent to his personal omni-tool was from the asari in question.

It was quick and to the point, for which the turian was grateful. She wasted no time reminding Garrus of old times, she didn't bother asking how he was coping with his mate –with _Shepard_- long gone. She didn't even bother with the shallow pretense of asking what he was doing now that the mass relays were almost open for civilian use again, a feat completed so rapidly due to the assistance of the remaining Reapers. No doubt the ex-Shadow Broker had kept tabs on all of her old companions, particularly now that communications, galaxy-wide, were coming back online. She didn't have to ask, which was good, because Garrus wouldn't have answered.

_Garrus, _it started simply. No _'my dear friend'_, no _'Major General Vakarian'. _

'_I've found news of a transaction that will take place in the Terminus System somewhere in the Titan Nebula in the coming fortnight. Wanted batarian slavers are involved. There was chatter. Shepard's name came up a few times.' _

Garrus pauses, running his fingers along his plating with a tired sigh. His eyes travel back to the screen again, somewhat unwillingly.

He was just so tired of it all.

She was dead. Why couldn't people leave well enough alone and finally put her name to rest?

'_Further investigation required. I am not completely inclined to voice my concerns, but there is something amiss. These batarians have past dealings with Cerberus and the Illusive Man. I can not seem to gleam anything of their future business partner, however. Something might come of this.'_

Garrus doesn't fight the anger at her words. Anger at Liara for presuming, after all these years, that he would simply stop helping Shepard's home world to teach some batarians a lesson about rubbing their galaxy's savior's name in the dirt. He was trying to do something _right. _He was trying to do something that would have made Shepard proud. Spirit's be damned, but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity Shepard had given her life for. He would help all he could until his bones grew weary, he would grow into an old bitter turian, and then his spirit would seek her out when it was time. Only then.

_She_ had taught him that. Shepard would not have wanted him to relieve his year as Archangel reborn. Not now, not for some batarian slavers that didn't know when to leave well enough alone.

'_I am sorry.' _

That was the only sign off Liara offered. He didn't know what the asari had meant by it, but it did nothing to lessen his aggravation.

Garrus shook his head, clearing his mind of nagging thoughts of his deceased commander; his life mate.

He would respond later, he decided. When he had time to cool off and sort out how he felt about what the asari had informed him.

He didn't think time would change his stubborn mind, but he owed Liara that much.

He would tell her that he was done dredging up painful memories and had vowed to stop picking at old wounds. He would tell her later.

He deleted her message and before he had a chance to go back to lunch, another message popped up onto his screen. He _was_ going to ignore it, in all honesty, was going to make it a problem for later, but the sender's name swayed him.

Spectre Kaidan Alenko.

With a slow shake of his head he opened the human's message.

He must have received Liara's message as well. This stirred up Garrus' frustration even more. It was not Kaidan's place.

'_Major General Vakarian,' _Kaidan's message started. Official as ever.

'_I assume Dr. T'soni's message has reached you already. I can attain quick passage to the Terminus system for a small ship and smaller crew. Using the mass relays at this point in time with my clearance should not be an issue. We have received reports of unusual activity in the area prior to this. Investigation into the matter would be prudent.'_

Garrus grits his teeth, eyes narrowed at the glowing orange screen of his omni-tool. He should have known the human Spectre would be all over this scrap of information regarding Shepard. No doubt the human was taking it all far too personally, as well.

Garrus had been fine with leaving well enough alone a moment before. Before he had known Kaidan would go waltzing in acting like he was heroically defending his deceased commander's honor. Acting like he cared more about what had happened to her than Garrus did.

His talons clench in annoyance.

She was dead. Killing a few batarians wouldn't change that.

He'd learnt that back on Omega. It would only leave you feeling hollow right before you died.

Back on Omega the only thing that had saved him had been Shepard. Not even she could come back from the dead twice to save him from himself.

_Kaidan, _Garrus curses the man internally.

How could the damn human drag him back into this? Didn't he know he was trying? Trying to make a difference? Trying to stay alive for Shepard?

'_I'm stationed on Earth at the moment,' _the message continued. _'If you're still here, come ask for me at the London HQ. Given your history I thought you deserved this opportunity.' _

Garrus' hackles rise. _History?_ As if it was some fleeting crush, something as trivial as what Kaidan had once shared with the commander. Shepard wasn't just Garrus' history. They were mates. Death didn't change anything.

He didn't think he could be any more annoyed, but the next bit makes Garrus see red.

'_Shepard wouldn't want this.' _

He closes the message with jarring movements and admits a low growl.

If the human Spectre was so blind that he thought that what Shepard wanted was for them to go off on an adventure, away from the people that really needed them, because somebody they didn't like was talking about her, than he was an idiot.

_Shepard didn't want anything; she was dead. _Garrus thought bitterly.

But damned if he was going to let Kaidan go flying off without him in the name of _his_ mate.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

She might have appeared asleep were her glowing green eyes not open; unseeing and still.

Her arms were crossed serenely atop her armor clad chest, a calm mockery of the former Commander. The once proud N7 logo atop her chest piece shone ironically at her sneering audience.

Pale skin and freckled cheeks were harshly illuminated in the unnatural glow of the upright stasis pod.

She was but a trophy on display in a small room of sadistic achievements.

Unimpressed, the ship's _guest _rubs at his scarred chin. "How do we know it's the real deal?" His lips curve up in ill-concealed contempt, eyeing the female frozen in time before them.

A batarian answers him with a low growl. The four-eyed biped baring it's razor sharp teeth in a show of anger.

"500,000 of my credits to Cerberus say otherwise," the batarian snaps at the maimed and scarred human, grimacing through the long-gone human-organizations name. "The Illusive Man might have been a crazy bastard, but he sure as shit didn't half-ass anything." He gives a deep rumble. "You won't find any others of this quality. Last of a batch of three. The other two… didn't make it very long."

The crew of batarian's all chuckle at the fond memories this entails.

The man's single eye darts to the batarian, his calm demeanor giving away nothing of his inner thoughts. His two men, that closely flank their boss, are equally unresponsive.

The batarian slaver doesn't like them. It's a joke –_an insult!_- that there are only two of them, armed with naught but pistols. Who is this guy to question them? They're out numbered and out gunned. If it weren't for the promise of a large volume of credits he'd be bleeding out on the floor already.

"I want a demonstration," the human contact states simply. "Assurance that what you've promised me, and what I see before me, align."

Suddenly, the pilot's muffled voice cuts in over the comm. "Picking up abnormal activity in the vicinity, boss."

Glaring indignantly at the offending speaker box, the batarian in charge throws up his hands in dismissive annoyance. "Aaah, I'm busy!"

There is a moment of static over the outdated technology, and then silence.

"Useless," the batarian growls.

He faces the human contract, jabbing a finger in his direction.

"I don't owe you anything, human," he all but shouts. "You promised me 750,000 unmarked hard credits, I've yet to see any of it."

He pulls his assault rifle, slowly, from his back, holding it at his side in a show of dominance.

His anger rises when there is no change in expression from any of the humans.

"You're on _my_ ship," the batarian reminds the lead human.

A few moments of tense silence tick past, the batarian's crew restlessly awaiting some kind of command, hands twitching excitedly for their varying holsters.

The human breaks the silence with a small chuckle.

"Your ship won't last another week floating out here," the human has the confidence to smirk. "You don't need to see your engineering room to know that. You don't even have enough money to fix your damn comm."

His voice loses all of it's mocking mirth, taking on a stern countenance.

"You _need_ my money," the human tells the batarian. "All 250,000 credits."

The batarian raises his gun with a guttural shout, his crew taking up arms with like-minded cries of bloodlust.

The human's visage becomes suddenly stony, slight annoyance evident in the set of his single eye. His men brace themselves, but do nothing further.

"Enough!" the scarred man shouts evenly.

He suddenly punches his first to the floor, causing a shockwave of blue energy to pulse throughout the trophy room. Within the blink of an eye, every single batarian that had drawn arms was knocked back, their cries of alarm their only defense.

Shouts of confusion fill the small room and then all returns to normal, the human standing with his arms behind his back as if nothing had happened.

"I want a demonstration," the human repeats, demanding their full attention.

The battered batarian growls, shaking himself off indignantly, and crawling back onto his feet.

"500,000," the batarian demands through bared teeth.

"We shall see what it is that you have to offer first," the human tells him.

With an angered hiss the batarian jerks his head at one of his many stunned and annoyed crew members. The subordinate batarian turns around to follow through with his silent command. With a sharp tap of the screen that rests upon the wall beside the stasis pod, the crew member offers a growl of annoyance. The screen in question offers an agreeable sound in return and glows green.

The stasis pod slowly lowers to rest upon the floor, the crew shuffling nervously to the side, allowing their leader and guests to better see the pod in its new position.

"Activate it," the human demands, a glint of something cold and feral in his eye.

Offering another growl, the batarian slaver stomps toward the stasis pod, sneering down at the unaware inhabitants with bitter loathing. He lifts his wrist, tapping at the bright orange screen of his outdated omnitool with quick jabs.

There is a sudden hiss of released pressure, and the less obvious sound of multiple hands falling nervously to rest upon weapons.

The glass opens out as if on hinges, and a small puff of steam rises out from the pod. Within, the female appears as if she is covered in a thin layer of frost momentarily. This effect fades quickly, leaving behind the very real form of Commander Shepard.

The room is silent, all outwardly anxious, but for the smirking scarred man, patiently awaiting the reawakening of a long dead _hero_.

"Last of the Illusive Man's batch," the batarian continues nervously. "One of three he created in case the original died before he was done using her. I guess he didn't want to test his luck after the first one turned on him. He must've been desperate for credits right near the end, having been willing to auction them off." He laughs suddenly. "We had quite some fun with the other two." He eyes the scarred human. "They're the real deal," he assures him.

A gasp echoes throughout the room, and Commander Shepard wakes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

She's drifting in space, her only company her ragged gasping breaths for life and the slow hiss of her punctured suit. She jerks suddenly, her body demanding oxygen, her face suddenly cold, so very cold. Her eyes cannot focus on her ship any longer, fire blasting silently from the body of it. She watches the stars as they spin slowly around her, pain and fear all she can feel, and then she sees and feels nothing.

Jane Shepard wakes with a start, gasping suddenly for air. A hazy fog suddenly lifts from her mind, chased away by a rush of fear induced adrenaline.

She's lying inside of a tube of some kind. _A coffin? _She briefly wonders.

She can hear nervous murmurs outside of her resting place. They don't sound overly welcoming. She squints at the dark ceiling above her, but her eyes are quickly dawn to the forms around her.

Batarians.

With a guttural battle cry she bolts upright and her head spins. Shaking her head in resistance she stumbles onto her feet, her legs shaking. She stumbles out of the pod, tripping under her own weight. She throws out her arms, catching herself on the metal grating of the floor painfully, breathing in great gulps of burning air.

Shepard can hear the shifting of feet around her, and her eyes dart around in fear. She's outnumbered. Reflexively, her hands reach for her side, grasping at empty space where her pistol should be.

She pushes herself back onto her feet with unstable arms, wobbling to her feet. Thankfully, she manages, though sheer force of will, to remain standing this time.

She stumbles back and away from the batarians around her. She corners herself into a cold flat wall. She rests her hands upon it, steadying herself.

Nobody makes a move against her. This observation does not put her jumbled mind any more at ease.

"Where am I?" the question comes unbidden from her lips in a gasp.

Her eyes travel around the room, and she finds that it is not just batarians armed to the teeth that watch her so intently. There are three humans amongst them, small side arms at the hips their only evident weaponry.

One of the human's is scarred beyond repair, a hollow eye-socket seemingly boring into her. A small shiver runs up Shepard's spine when she notices that his remaining eye has a faint green glow to it. He wasn't even truly human. Not really.

She can feel the eyes of everybody in the room on her now. Her body freezes when she notices that they all stare at her with the same green glint in their iris', humans and batarians alike.

Her hands ball into fists, her instinct to fight that which she couldn't understand taking over in her fear and confusion.

"Who are you?" She shouts, willing her anger to replace the crippling fear. _What are you,_ her mind corrects her.

Being afraid will get her nowhere. She has faced worse odds before.

Her fingernails dig into her palms reassuringly, her fists balled tightly at her sides.

She doesn't let her nagging mind remind her that she has never woken up surrounded by armed _things_ with no weapons and no backup.

"As you can see she is _very_ real," one of the batarians states evenly to the scarred man. "Every emotion, every thought, every action."

Shepard frowns, willing her breathing under control. Her eyes dart around the room, taking everything in and plotting a course of action.

"Boss," another batarian's voice plays over the comm. "I really think you should come up here and see this."

"Just shut up for once!" the batarian from before shouts with an angry wave of his hands.

"You've surprised me," the scarred man speaks for the first time, his face impassive and calm. "I'm impressed."

He doesn't sound it. He doesn't sound like he feels much of anything.

With a small nod of his head, there is sudden movement from the two other green-eyed humans behind him.

And then all hell breaks loose.

The sound of guns firing fill the room, and the guttural shouts of the batarians taking damage assault Shepard's ears. With wide eyes, she rolls away from the wall to crouch behind the pod she had jumped out of moments before.

Her hairs stand on end and suddenly the bright glow of biotics surge throughout the room, knocking a batarian into the wall where she had been standing a moment before. There are a few pained cries and thumps, leading Shepard to assume the same is happening to the batarians behind her.

The precise sound of professionally silenced pistols firing follows, ending the pained groans and enrages shouts of the remaining aliens.

She grimaces, reaching toward the very-still batarian before her. A rifle lies in his limp, outstretched hand.

She can almost reach it without moving from behind her makeshift cover.

She stretched her fingers, her features determined, sweat beading in her hairline.

So close.

And then she can only see blue. She's surrounded by it, trapped in it.

With an undignified shout, she feels herself being lifted expertly from behind her protective cover. She tries to move her head to see who is lifting her so capably with their biotics, but finds she cannot turn, cannot move more than her eyes. She can't hear anything for a moment, the overpowering biotics humming deafeningly in her ears.

And then, as suddenly as it had happened, she is dropped to the floor and can hear and move once more.

The room fills with red light every few seconds, an alarm sounding piercingly. The batarians are all dead, thrown back against the walls of the room, and all finished with a single shot to the head.

Shepard faces the scarred man, telltale blue sparks shimmering around his clenched fists. She tenses, poised and ready for an attack.

He chuckles.

"Shepard," he says simply, by way of greeting.

"Who are you?" she grits out through clenched teeth, shaking in anger.

The two men behind him return to his side silently, re-holstering their pistols calmly.

His scarred lips full back in a cold smirk.

And then Shepard is knocked from her feet as the whole ship lurches suddenly.

She opens her eyes to find she is lying on her side, and scrambles desperately to her feet. She doesn't stop to catch her breath of clutch her bruised side. She runs with long strides for the only door from this circular room. Leaping over one of the toppled men, she doesn't pause, all of them confused and disoriented from the sudden shift of the floor beneath them.

Alarms sound all around her, and her vision is impaired by the flashing red lights, but she doesn't stop.

_Find a weapon,_ she commands herself.

She is running through a small corridor, doors lined along both sides, but she doesn't stop to try them. She keeps running for the end of the corridor, which she can see opens out onto something more promising.

She hears a sudden shout of confusion and outrage, and a batarian blocks her path, he looks disoriented, but the pistol in his hand gives Shepard momentary pause. She pushes on, pumping her arms and willing her legs to move faster.

He lets off a shot and her heart clenches painfully in her chest. She can hear it ricochet somewhere close behind her. Too close.

She pushes on, teeth bared in determination.

With a shout of exertion, she leaps towards his midsection, arms outstretched and head ducked to the side.

There's another shot, and blindingly hot pain erupts in Shepard's midsection, but she puts the full force of her strength and weight into knocking the single batarian off of his feet. They both topple backwards, her fall softened by his larger body.

With a cry of pain stemming from her stomach, Shepard lashes out, punching the batarian in the throat with a closed fist. Once, twice. He gasps, flailing for a moment, before she grabs him roughly by the forehead, smashing his tough batarian skull against the metal grating of the floor. He twitches, and then finally stills.

Without pause, Shepard uses his frozen face to push herself up, clutching her side. She takes a deep breath. _Breathe through the pain,_ she tells herself. Then, she reaches down for his pistol with a grimace, groaning as she rights herself, finally armed.

She pulls her hand from her midsection and finds it slick with warm blood. Her blood. She won't be able to push herself for much longer in this state. She's going to have to find a way off this ship.

Her face frozen in a determined grimace, Shepard pushes on, comforted by the cool feel of the weapon in her hand.

The corridor opens into a command room, abuzz with panic. She forces herself to run, instead of her slow pain-filled shuffle. She makes her way along the wall, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, and stands beside the single elevator. With a groan she punches the elevator button, leaving a mess of blood in her wake.

With a sigh she is happy to find that the elevators haven't been locked down yet, despite the warning alarms that ring ship-wide. She won't have to do laps around the ship, searching blindly for a shuttle bay, hoping she doesn't bleed out in the process.

She turns her back to the elevator door, pistol raised should anyone pay heed to her bedraggled form. What batarians are left are all too busy with their dedicated jobs to pay the human any mind, let alone notice her.

Three batarians break off from the group, these ones substantially better armed, and sprint down the corridor in which she had just come from. There are some cries, and seconds later a large flash of blue can be seen from within the long corridor.

_Hurry up,_ she wills the elevator.

Her heart thumps in her chest when the elevator doors start to open behind her back. She turns, gasping through her pain, pistol raised towards the gradually opening doors.

Despite her pain, her arm is steady and expertly trained, she doesn't blink when a batarian suddenly stands before her. She puts a bullet in his head without batting an eye and he crumples to the floor with a small gasp of surprise.

Without stopping, she rushes into the elevator, punching the button to close the doors, and breathing a sigh of relief when they slide shut without any resistance. She is thrust into almost complete darkness, the only sound her heavy breathing and the constantly wailing alarms.

She studies the wall panel with unfocused eyes, wiping her red hair away form her eyes with a blood covered wrist.

With a lackluster smile she presses the button for the bottom level; the helpfully titled 'SB'. The shuttle bay.

_Almost there,_ she reassures herself.

The batarian's body at her feet lies forgotten.

She takes a moment to calm her nerves, breathing in and out in a controlled manor, before she feels the elevator lurch to a sudden stop all too soon. She lifts her pistol once more, and waits for the doors to open.

The doors rattle open on old tracks and she freezes.

She is not greeted by batarians this time.

Weapons trained on her position stand Kaidan and Garrus.

Her body slumps, and she breathes a sigh of relief, a happy smile taking hold. Her weapon lowers.

"Kaidan," she breathes out, suddenly exhausted. "About damn time, soldiers," she corrects herself.

In her astonished relief, she fails to notice the look of confusion and panic that cross her companion's faces. Her racing mind doesn't consciously acknowledge that they have changed far too much given the amount of time she thinks has passed since she last saw them. Kaidan has grown, stronger and older; there is creasing at the corner of his eyes that wasn't there before. She even fails to notice the large patch of marred skin that stretches over half of the turian's face, pulling back his plating in a feral snarl on one side.

It is only when they don't lower their weapons that Shepard realizes that something is horribly wrong.

Kaidan looks pained, yet angry, and Garrus has something indiscernible written across his alien features. The turian makes a small sound that she had never heard before; a chocked, painful sound of loss.

With a start, Shepard doesn't know how she missed that their iris' are glowing a bright green.

She raises her weapon, her face steely and determined once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Stand down, LT!"

Kaidan Alenko's heart lurches in his chest, his breath hitching erratically. Sweat beads and falls into his eyes, his weapon shaking in his white-knuckled grip.

Were he not currently staring down the barrel of his pistol at his deceased Commander, he might have questioned her use of his old title. He did not.

Beside him Garrus emits a low growl, the turian's obvious distress unheeded by the dark-haired Spectre. Kaidan can't worry about the turian now. He can only focus on so much.

The imposter sounds just like her. She sounds _exactly_ like her.

Only, it couldn't be her. No matter how hard Kaidan might wish it was.

They stand so close, Kaidan and Garrus side-by-side, facing off against a battered and bloody Shepard –_no, not Shepard_, Kaidan reminds himself furiously. Confusion and, somehow, sheer determination, are clear in the imposter's eerily familiar green eyes.

Her eyes glow suddenly, a vivid inhuman green, so very much like his own eyes; like everybody's were now. Kaidan shakes his head. Shepard had never had the chance to benefit from the changes that she brought about, galaxy-wide. Her eyes had never glowed green with the promise of technological enhancements. This was _not_ the Shepard that he had known.

"Drop-" Kaidan's voice catches in his throat. He tries again, "Drop your weapon!"

Kaidan's voice overpowers Garrus' weaker, regret-filled: "Shepard."

Shepard's eyes widen, ever so slightly, at Kaidan's commanding tone.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, her grip tightening on her pistol pointedly. She doesn't raise her voice this time, but it still demands his attention, his submission.

"You know I can't do that, Kaidan," she grits out through clenched teeth.

Kaidan's biotics surge; a crackling of powerful energy that casts a blue-green glow throughout the batarian ship's shuttle bay in a sudden show of anger. Anger fuelled by her all-to-familiar use of his name. He clenches his jaw and it doesn't take him long to get his biotics under control, his easy restraint, despite his emotional turmoil, a result of his synthesis with technology many years prior. An event that Shepard had given everything, her life included, to achieve.

_She's dead_, Kaidan repeats to himself.

"Shepard," Garrus tries again, his voice strained with pain.

Her eyes travel to the turian and lock onto his intent gaze for the first time since they had come to this stalemate. Her eyes are sharp and focused, despite the hand that holds her abdomen in pain. Blood wells around her bruised fingers. She's going to need medical attention. Her breath hitches momentarily, though she tries to hide her weakness.

She makes no move to stand down, her gun now trained expertly between the turian's predatory eyes.

With a guttural shout of frustration, Garrus throws down his precious sniper rifle, kicking it towards her roughly. He raises his arms in defeat, much to the shocked alarm of Kaidan.

Without a word, Shepard's weapon trains once again upon Kaidan. Her shoulders are tense, her finger resting lightly upon the trigger of her weapon.

"Garrus," Kaidan warns, his hands shaking.

Garrus' eyes travel to his companion, his face unreadable. When the turian speaks next, his tone is flat, giving light to none of the confusion and fear that he is feeling under the surface.

"Let's just play this out," Garrus tells Kaidan, as if it weren't Commander Shepard, back from the dead _again_, standing before them, weapon raised.

"Kaidan," Shepard warns, her voice sounding more and more desperate.

"It's not _her_," Kaidan hisses to Garrus, eyes still trained on his enemy.

Garrus gives a rueful chuckle, his voice dark. "That's what you thought last time, Alenko."

Her eyebrows rise suddenly at this statement, for the barest of moments. As suddenly as this show of intrigue appears, it is gone again, replaced by a mask of control and determination.

"Dammit!" Kaidan curses over the turian's low growl.

In one fluid motion, he forcefully holsters his pistol.

The sudden movement causes a look of alarm to momentarily cross her face. Her nuances are so close the real Shepard's. They had really done their research, whoever, or whatever this imposter was.

_She thought I was going to shoot her, _Kaidan realizes.

The imposter releases a breath of air, relief flooding her features.

_Yet she still didn't kill me_, realization dawns on the Spectre.

He shakes his head. He wanted so badly for it to be her, he was willing to believe anything. He should not be so easily fooled. He was a Spectre, _dammit!_

If she wanted the galaxy to believe that she was truly Shepard, killing her old squad mates wasn't likely to be the first step to success.

This realization, however, didn't put Kaidan any more at ease.

Garrus' piercing eyes never leave the woman before them. "Your move," Garrus states simply, eyes observant as ever.

She goes to open her mouth, eyes hard and calculating, but pauses, confusion taking ahold. Her weapon arm starts to drop slightly, the Shepard-look-alike's face a mess of confusion.

"Did anyone else from the Normandy survive the blast?" She finally decides to ask, her voice lost, _frightened_.

"The blast…?" Kaidan hears Garrus mutter under his breath in confusion.

Her eyes betray her mad panic, fear and confusion taking ahold. She was unstable. She had to be put down, whoever, or whatever, _she_ was.

"Did anyone make it?!" she shouts now, her hold on her weapon suddenly tightening, waving the pistol in Kaidan's direction desperately.

And then Kaidan throws her against the wall with a flash of blue-green biotics.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The DNA from hair follicles were a match. The DNA from her saliva was a match. The DNA from her blood was a match.

This was, technically, Shepard.

The faint green glow from her synthesis with technology was new, however.

Garrus watched the silent figure from the doorframe as she snored quietly through her drug induced sleep. Her eyes move erratically behind closed lids the way that human's did. Her chest rose and fell calmly, unknowing of the turmoil that went on around her.

His eyes didn't leave her sleeping form, he couldn't keep them off her if he wanted to. But he could not approach her either. He was frozen in fear, apprehension, and –hidden below this all- a desperate desire.

The doctor had performed a few basic tests to try and get to the bottom of who, or what, they were dealing with. Garrus didn't know how to feel about their current conclusion. Commander Shepard was alive.

He should be happy.

He wasn't.

If anyone could come back from the dead, not once but twice, it would be his Shepard. That was not what had him so terribly ill-at-ease. No. It was what she had said before Kaidan had panicked like the damn child he was and nearly killed her.

He still remembers the blind panic that had taken ahold of him when she crumpled to the floor in a heap, her chest barely moving. He had pushed Kaidan aside, and run to her, fear and danger forgotten momentarily. He wasted no time lifting her in his arms, head cradled gently to his chest.

He had felt the difference in her. She was softer than he remembered, smaller too.

She had opened her eyes momentarily, her gaze hazy and unfocused. She had frowned, looking up at him in a daze.

"Garrus?" she had whispered, confused.

His heart leapt at the sound of his name uttered in her raspy voice.

But then she had resisted, desperately trying to squirm free from his gentle hold on her. Panic, and _fear_, had replaced the confusion in her eyes.

"Don't touch me," he thinks she had uttered in frustrated panic, so quiet and ragged she had been.

She had stopped resisting as suddenly as she had begun, uttering a small mew of pain as blood began to flow from her side more freely. Her head had sagged back against him and she had gone so still he had been sure that she was dead.

His breathing hitches at the recent memory of her distress.

Now she was safe, and Garrus felt none the better for it.

Monitors beep quietly in the small white-walled medical bay of Kaidan's ship. _The Normandy SR-3, _Garrus reminds himself spitefully.

She looked and sounded so much like the Shepard he remembered so fondly. But what she had said to him and Kaidan before she had passed out hadn't added up.

Frowning at his own fear, Garrus purposefully strides toward her bedside, looking closely at her face.

Her dark eyelids flutter gently and his heart lurches once more. He didn't think he would ever get to see her face again. For a moment he doesn't wonder if it is her or not, and is simply content, grateful, that he gets to see her face again.

Garrus drops to his knees beside his mate's bed suddenly, his hard joins hitting the unforgiving floor. He suddenly chokes on his own breath, a sudden desperate pain welling up within him, released in a short and desperate cry. He grabs the mattress beside her frame with sharp talons, clenching them into fists in frustration and shredding the bed in their wake.

"Why did you leave me, Shepard?" he whispers in frustrated pain.

Forcing himself to breath through it, Garrus looks upon her face once more, sudden hope lighting his eyes. He leans forward and breaths in her scent, exactly as he remembered it.

_I've missed you so much, Shepard, _he thinks suddenly.

Without thinking, he reaches out to touch his mate's soft cheek, his fingers gentle once more. His hand shakes horribly in his confused mix of emotions.

He follows the small brown dots that line her soft human face, his heart melting at their familiarity, and then he stops in his assessment of her. His hand freezes, so close to caressing her soft skin. The scar from her close escape of the Collector's Base wasn't there. Her lips were flawless. There was no sign of the jagged white cut that should be on her bottom lip.

With a cry of unfiltered pain, Garrus pushes away from her, the bed grazing across the floor with a shriek, nearly tipping on its side.

This wasn't Shepard. This wasn't her.

Anger replaces the hurt.

He'd let himself feel. He'd let himself open up to the pain that would take ahold of him when he realized –which he _knew_ would happen- that _this_ was not his Shepard.

His cry turns into a roar of outrage. At this woman before him for looking so much like _her._ At himself for hoping it was. And, most of all, at Shepard for dying and leaving him to deal with this without her.

He pushes himself upright, pointedly looking anywhere but at the silent form upon the bed. He pushes a small table of basic medical equipment out of his path, the items crashing unforgivingly against the floor.

All the while, Kaidan watches over his terminal as the turian storms out of the small medical bay, a litter of damaged equipment left in his wake.

* * *

Thanks for reading this far. I'm going to try for regular updates. Reviews are greatly appreciated, constructive or encouraging, your pick.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks everyone for all of your favourites, follows, and reviews.

* * *

Chapter 6

Admiral Steven Hackett was tired.

He was on his way to his newly furnished quarters of Arcturus Station II when his omni-tool flashed, alerting him of a high-priority conference request.

With a sigh he turns back the way he had come only moments before, glancing wistfully at his cabin door from the corner of his eye.

Works were underway on the new Alliance space station, but it was far from finished. It would be many more years before it would be able to hold a torch to the original. Hackett hoped he would be long retired by that point.

Men and woman pause briefly in their various tasks to salute their admiral as he passes. He offers them all curt nods, not having the patience or energy to offer anything more.

He makes his way to the new conference room, the doors sliding open silently after a quick head-to-toe scan and routine authentication of his credentials.

Steven Hackett walks into the room, hands clasp behind his back and hoping silently that he doesn't look as tired as he feels. There's too much that he needs to do before anyone realises just how _old_ he has gotten. He's looking forward to the time when he can step-down, but he's not quite ready yet.

"Conference request from Commander Alenko, Admiral Hackett," his communication specialists voice sounds over the room's comms.

He straightens his posture, rolling his shoulders until he hears them _pop_.

"Patch him in," he finally commands.

"Patching him in," the voice repeats a moment later.

"See that surveillance in the conference room is put on standby until my say-so," he adds, as an afterthought.

"Yes, sir," the voice answers, before they cut out.

The small circle in the middle of the room glows a low green, before a lights suddenly displays the detailed outline of the current commander of the SSV Normandy SR-3.

He looks as tired as Hackett feels.

"Commander Alenko," Hackett gives a brief nod of his head.

"Admiral Hackett," Kaidan's posture is stiff as he offers the expected salute.

"At ease, Alenko," Hackett offers him, his voice letting the tired undertones creep through.

The commander's posture doesn't look any more at ease. But he lowers his hand to his side. He looks tense.

"Hackett, sir," he shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I have news regarding the covert operation in the Titan Nebula which you previously granted resources towards."

"Speak freely, Commander," Hackett offers by way of encouragement, sensing the other man's discomfort.

"The batarian ship we found with the Intel supplied by Dr. T'soni was under a coordinated attack upon our boarding, sir," the commander pauses. "We're certain it was an Alliance short-range cruiser that was docked on the batarian ship at the time of our arrival."

The Admiral rubs his chin, "Not under my command, Alenko," he states, earning a nod.

Hackett can feel the tension in his whole body and forces him to relax his stance.

"As I suspected," Kaidan offers by way of response. "We were unable to investigate more upon this matter however, given that what we found on board was of our upmost priority."

The admiral waits for Alenko to continue, given how obviously he is struggling to find the correct words.

"We found Shepard," Kaidan sudden says.

Hackett's eyebrows suddenly lower in a deep frown, his shoulder's tensing.

Commander Jane Shepard had been officially declared MIA three years ago at the end of the Reaper War, presumed dead, which had only been declared only two years prior when the repairs of the Citadel had turning up nothing.

"Alive?" Hackett hates to ask.

Kaidan offers a curt nod. "Alive, sir."

The admiral can feel a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, unbidden. He fights it down quickly, however, forcing himself to think of the repercussions of Shepard's sudden return, rather than his own personal feelings on the matter.

"How many of your crew know?" he forces himself to ask, when all he really wants to know is if she is okay. "This is not news that we can have spreading quite yet."

Kaidan nods, "The information regarding the identity of our new passenger is on a 'need to know' basis. Only those that I trust completely are aware of her identity at this point in time. As soon as we dock, or she wakes, I don't think that will stay the case, however."

"_Wakes up_?" Hackett repeats, eyebrow raised.

"She sustained some injuries in the attack on the batarian ship, sir, nothing she won't recover from, though," Kaidan explains. He coughs uncomfortably, "At this point, we believe the batarian's were trying to trade her off to their previously mentioned business partners."

The smile tugs at the corner of his lips again at the mention of Shepard's recovering health. He fights it back again.

"An issue that we can't ignore, at this point, Commander," Hackett issues sternly. "You are to return immediately to Arcturus Station II to brief me in person, Shepard also."

Hackett suddenly sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His fatigue suddenly shows, causing a look of concern to momentarily cross Kaidan's face. He covers his slip-up quickly.

"Make sure she's not recognizable when you board, Commander," he warns. "Not everyone will be as happy with her return as you and I. We need to find out what we're dealing with before her return becomes commonly known information. There are far too many terrorist groups and factions that aren't too happy with her, as you well know."

"Yes, sir," Kaidan nods in reply, having obviously thought of this prior. "We shall dock at," he pauses, looking off screen for a moment, "roughly 0800 in three days."

"Until then, Commander," Hackett offers him with a curt salute. "Say 'hi' to Shepard for me," he finishes, his voice softer.

"We'll see, sir," Kaidan replies. He looks like he wants to say more, but simply shakes his head, pointedly offering a reply salute. "Sir," he says by way of farewell.

"Hackett out," he finally offers, Commander Alenko's tired image disappearing suddenly.

With a sigh, Hackett manually overrides the silence on the comms. Without another word, he makes his way back to his quarters. His steps heavy and his heart in turmoil.

Thoughts of retirement are long gone from his mind when he tries to find sleep that night-cycle.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks everybody for your support. You'll find out a bit more about why Kaidan isn't a Major anymore, in this chapter, I promise. Keep up the wonderful reviews.

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Chapter 7

"Our course of action?" Kaidan repeats Garrus' question slowly.

This was not something that they could just rush head-on into. It was a delicate matter. No, _a giant mess of a matter_, Kaidan corrects himself.

"Your translator glitching, Commander?" the turian's tone is innocent, but Kaidan knows Garrus better than that.

"What would you have me do, Garrus?" Kaidan sighs, deciding not to bother with titles. Garrus had never been one for them, maybe it would make this conversation a bit easier.

The turian has the decency to pause at the turn of questioning, appearing as flustered as a hard-skinned creature's facial muscles can allow.

"_Something_," Garrus finally says, throwing his arms in the air. "Waiting doesn't seem to be doing a whole lot of anything. Wake her up, ask her some questions. _Something_. Just stop pumping meds into her so _you_ don't have to deal, Kaidan." He hisses the last part.

Kaidan tenses at the accusation, frowning.

He was doing all he could. He had given Hackett a mission report the night before, hadn't he? There wasn't much more that could be done until they docked on Arcturus Station II. This was bigger than him. This was bigger than Garrus. It wasn't as simple as an old squad mate making a surprising recovery. This was Shepard; _the _Shepard. No matter what Kaidan decided to do, it was going to cause issues with someone higher up. The best thing to do was defer judgment to his superior. Even as he thought this, he felt his resolve crumble. It wasn't right thinking of Shepard in that way. Garrus was right, she deserved better than that. He was being given a chance here. A second chance to make things right.

"Don't pull that shit with me, Vakarian." Kaidan responds, tired. "I'm doing what I can with what information I've got. I thought, with how easily you believed it was her last time, that you might do more than throw a few chairs around because you're not happy. Instead you come in here, ready for a fight, ignoring _your_ own issues. "

"My own issues?" Garrus leans back, crossing his arms atop his chest defensively. He doesn't raise his voice. "I've got the same issue as always. Shepard's dead. Nothing much has changed on that front. That woman in there _might_ be some version of Shepard, but it's not the same Shepard that died three years ago."

Garrus' voice softens, "If she's anything like the woman we both knew," _loved, _Kaidan internally corrects the turian, "then she deserves more than being pumped full of meds whilst you _think things through_."

Garrus was brash, but Kaidan knew he had a point. He'd known that morning when the doctor had said that their patient was ready to be woken. All he had to do was give the command.

"Tomorrow," Kaidan simply says.

It would give them two days to figure out all they could about what they had gotten themselves into. They couldn't get to Arcturus Station II flying blind on that front.

Garrus gives a low nod of his head. "Well, until then, Alenko," he says.

The turian leave his quarter's without offering another word.

Kaidan sighs, falling back into his desk-chair, running a hand over his face gracelessly. He looks at his computer, unread messages flashing on his screen. Absently, he scans over the high priority messages, but none where what he was after.

Liara T'soni had yet to offer a response to his message concerning what they had found on the batarian ship. Kaidan wondered if she would be surprised. He briefly entertained the idea that Liara knew much more than she had initially let on, like she always seemed to these days. Nothing much seemed to surprise Kaidan anymore. Nothing more than Shepard, anyway. She always seemed to be able to keep him on his toes.

Suddenly determined, Kaidan pushes away from his desk, turning to leave his room.

He makes his way to the medical clinic, not meeting any of his small crew's eyes or responding to their official greetings, his mind made up.

The curtains surrounding the clinic are closed, deterring curious eyes. Kaidan has to knock for entrance.

The young doctor is standing over Shepard's bed when Kaidan is granted entrance. The doctor's features are severe, and his eyes are sharp. He has worked aboard the Normandy SR-3 for several months now, hand-picked by Kaidan based on his many recommendations, despite his young age. Kaidan had initially been uncertain about involving him in all of this, but the pallor of Shepard's skin, and a few choice -panic-fuelled- words from Garrus had swayed Kaidan's hand.

Kaidan was impressed by the young doctor's professional, no questions asked, behavior.

Despite this all, however, Kaidan still found himself wishing that Dr. Karin Chakwas were here instead. It was no fault on the young man's behalf, it was simply that she would have known what to do on a more personal level. Her and Shepard had been close, and she had taken up shop, running her very own Earth-based clinic upon the end of the Reaper War. Upon Shepard's death.

Kaidan couldn't fault her for her decision, particularly given how horribly he had responded to Shepard's second death. Even now, looking around his ship, he was amazed Hackett had reinstated him, albeit as a Commander. There had to be some repercussions, after all.

He shakes his head of these thoughts, focusing on the current.

"Dr. Abrams," Kaidan greets quietly, feeling uncomfortable with the quiet of the small room.

"Commander," the doctor nods, tapping absent-mindedly at his omni-tool.

Kaidan avoids looking at the sleeping form on the small white bed.

"I want her awake and lucid by morning, doctor," Kaidan orders.

The doctor's lips curl into a small smile, but he says nothing to hint at his excitement at the prospect.

"Of course," he simply responds.

The doctor excuses himself silently, retreating to the supply closet without another word. The door closes quietly behind him.

Kaidan smiles, despite himself, when a few moments later he hears the muffled cry of "Commander _fucking_ Shepard," through the door. His smile grows in size when this is followed by the sound of numerous small items dropping from a shelf. Kaidan shakes his head at the sound of Abrams cursing quietly at the sudden noise.

Kaidan's dark eyes travel to the commander in question, almost of their own accord. Her chest rises and falls, her countenance calm and at peace. Kaidan hadn't seen her this way in a long time, even before her passing it had been something rare.

_The last time I saw her so relaxed was… _he cuts off that trail of thought.

"I'll see you in the morning, Shepard," he mutters, his voice strained and gravelly, reminiscent of similar words from another time.

The last time he had seen her like that had been before Ilos.

He returns to his cabin, and is plagued by dreams of a happier time until morning.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone for your continued support. Shepard's awake! Yay!

* * *

Chapter 8

The first time Jane Shepard wakes, she felt beyond groggy. Her eyes are heavy and her arms were moving slower than she would have liked. It wasn't the first time she had woken in her medical bay, weak and bed-ridden, so she wasn't overly concerned, drifting off to sleep again.

The second time she wakes, she nearly tips her small medical bed in alarm.

A young man in a white coat rushes to her side, moving to straighten her bed with a small smile on his lips.

"Where's Chakwas?" Shepard blurts out suddenly, eyeing the man suspiciously.

He shines a small light into her face, her eyes following it back and forth until he shuts it off with a small nod of his head.

"I'm Dr. Abrams," he chooses to say instead of offering her the answer she wanted.

"That will be all for now, Doctor," a familiarly rough voice issues promptly from behind Shepard's shoulder.

_Kaidan, _Shepard thinks in appreciative relief, the tension leaving her shoulders.

The doctor looks momentarily disappointed, but nods his head in acceptance. The young man manages a final glance in Shepard's direction before leaving, doors sliding closed behind him.

Shepard twists her head, looking in the direction Kaidan's voice had originated.

Unbidden, sudden flashes of memories come to the forefront of her mind. Her shoulder's tense once more, as she recalls the angry set to his eyes as he raised arms against her. She winces indignantly when she recalls her surprise and hurt when he had flashed dangerously with powerful biotics.

Shepard jolts once more, making to stand from her bed in a rush. It is only then that she realises that her wrists are separately cuffed to the flimsy bedframe. The motion nearly topples her again, so she stops with a grunt of frustration.

"Calm down," Kaidan's voice seems to fill the empty room.

The timbre of his deep voice sends a shiver up Shepard's spine. She feels like she hasn't heard his voice in a lifetime, although she remembers with perfect clarity the last time she had spoken to him; ordering him to stand down. She also recalls the time before that; ordering him to abandon ship. Ordering him to save himself and her crew.

She notices the green glow to his eyes as he watches her, and she shivers for an entirely different reason.

"I'll calm down when I'm out of these damn bracelets," she replies curtly, tugging at one of the cuffs pointedly.

Kaidan doesn't offer her a reply, walking around the bed to stand before her. His eyes are calculating, taking in every inch of her. It is not the first time this man has evaluated every inch of her in such a manner. The only difference this time is that it used to make her feel admired, beautiful even. Now she just feels like a lab rat under scrutiny. A level of scrutiny that didn't turn up any of the answers he wanted, if his current expression was anything to go by.

"What's wrong with your eyes, Kaidan?" Shepard finally dares to ask, her voice controlled and level.

_Should I even be calling this thing Kaidan?_ She finds herself wondering.

He frowns. Reaching a hand up as if to touch his face, before it falls back to his side with a look of realization.

"Cybernetics," he says by way of explanation. "Probably the easiest way of putting it."

"Cybernetics?" Shepard repeats. She shakes her head in frustration, a commanding tone creeping into her voice, "I want a full report, Lieutenant. What the shit have I missed out on?"

He doesn't say anything for quiet some time, Shepard's frustration growing. When he does respond, his voice is flat, his face expressionless.

"You died."

Shepard blanches for a moment, before letting a bitter smile pull at her lips.

"A-huh," she answers. "Obviously." She looks down at herself pointedly.

The sudden unbidden memory of the quiet of space drifts into her mind, followed by the recollection of how cold she had been as she tried to reach for her damaged oxygen supply. The stars had spun around her as the Normandy broke apart in a sea of flames.

Shepard can hear her blood pumping in her ears, and for a confusing moment she isn't sure if she can really hear it, or if it is all a part of her memory.

"I was spaced…" she whispers, realization dawning on her.

She looks around her suddenly, as if only really seeing the room for the first time, her hands shaking.

"The Normandy was destroyed," she states.

"Rebuilt again by Cerberus, for you," Kaidan offers suddenly, his face still impossibly impassive.

She looks suddenly horrified, "_You're_ working for Cerberus?" Her voice raises in volume.

Shepard tugs again at the cuffs, a snarl on her lips.

"You're not doing a very good job of this, Alenko."

The voice has the undercurrent of a growl to it, identifying the sudden intruder as Garrus. He stands in the medical bay's doorway. Said doors slide closed behind him a moment later. It is just the three of them, in her medical bay. Her apparently Cerberus-designed medical bay.

"We think you're a clone," Garrus states. "Not the first we've come across, so it's not too ridiculous a conclusion, really." He shrugs.

"I'm _not_ a clone," Shepard insists indignantly, her cheeks burning in anger.

Kaidan eyes the turian with surprise and a hint of disapproval.

"Just hear us out," Kaidan offers, noticing the look of outrage upon her face.

Garrus doesn't seem all too fazed by her abrupt response, simply crossing his arms atop his chest and moving to lean against the wall by her bedside, just out of arms length. His stance is relaxed, almost casual. The steeliness to his eyes hints at something more. Shepard simply doesn't understand the turian well enough to know just what it is…

"Cerberus rebuilt Shepard," Garrus pauses, "_you,_" he corrects himself after a moments hesitation, "after the first Normandy was destroyed by Collectors."

He stops, as if waiting for this to sink in, or perhaps some form of response from the cuffed Shepard.

She frowns, and he continues.

"We stopped the Collectors, obviously," he smirks in an almost cocky manner, surprising Shepard, "and then we told Cerberus, hmm, let's just say we told the Illusive Man we don't need him anymore. Then, with the help of the galaxy, we stopped the Reapers. Well, eventually." A bitterness creeps suddenly into his tone. "We lost a lot along the way."

"You merged synthetics with organics, and the Reaper's had no reason to harvest us any more," Kaidan prompts at the confused look on her face. "Shepard, you _died_ saving us."

"Again," Garrus adds with a humorless chuckle.

"I don't remember any of this," Shepard trails off, her voice suddenly quiet. "I remember the attack on the Normandy," she pauses, "Joker…"

Her teeth are gritted when she speaks next, her hands balled into white fists. "_That _must have been a clone, this person you speak of," she insists. "_I'm_ Jane. _I'm _Shepard_." _

"No," Kaidan shakes his head. "She was the original, I saw it for myself. Miranda gave me her word. Cerberus had the logs to prove it." He pauses, taking a slow breath as he collects his thoughts. "_She_ was rebuilt from…" he pauses suddenly, his eyes snapping back to meet Shepard's confused ones.

"You can say it, Alenko," Garrus snaps suddenly. "_She_ was rebuilt from what few body parts they could find. And when that wasn't quiet enough, they pieced her together with cybernetics. It took two years of work, but it was her. Mind, body, and _spirit_."

Kaidan seems disgusted by Garrus' explanation, and he does little to hide it.

"We, uh… We met a clone almost three years ago, she was _grown _with her DNA, _your_ DNA," Kaidan eventually continues.

He scratches at the back of his neck uncomfortably, a habit that Shepard finds so very familiar. It was tainted, however, by the green of multiple wires thrumming under the thinner skin on the underside of his arm.

"The Illusive Man had her created to be the perfect organ donor," Kaidan explains, with great difficulty, obviously distressed by this conversation.

Shepard's eyes widen, her mouth pulled into a thin line.

"She didn't have any of the real Shepard's memories, however," Garrus explains when Kaidan doesn't continue. "She was never meant to wake up. They never bothered with the truly important things."

The turian's eyes flicker briefly to Kaidan, but when he doesn't offer anymore input, choosing instead to stare at the wall behind Shepard's shoulder, they snap back to Shepard's own.

"I'm _not_ a copy," Shepard insists through clenched teeth.

She can feel Garrus' piercing eyes on her, but she doesn't pay him any mind, focusing on Kaidan.

"I remember _everything_, my whole life, right up until," she takes a shuddering breath, "…until I died." Her eyes find Kaidan's, willing him to understand. "I _feel_ everything." Her eyes lower, and her voice wavers. "My name is Jane Shepard."

"We're not doubting that," Garrus offers her, tilting his head to the side.

Kaidan's eyes snap to the turian.

"_I'm _not doubting that," Garrus corrects himself tartly, much to the dislike of the dark-haired man at his side. "We're just telling you the facts. Feel free to draw your own conclusions. You always have," he offers her what she thinks is a smile. It's tinged with something deeper.

Shepard's posture suddenly straightens, and she fights back the almost lost expression that had marred her features only moments before.

"So I," she frowns, shaking her head, "Or some version of me, anyway, stopped the Reapers? We weren't too late? The council finally listened?"

Garrus offers a wry chuckle, whilst Kaidan simply looks uncomfortable.

"Something like that," the turian offers dryly.

"And we're on a stolen Cerberus ship that _looks _like the Normandy?" she presses.

"The SSV Normandy SR-3," Kaidan says pointedly. "_Alliance_."

Garrus almost seems to roll his eyes. "The _SR-2_ was built by Cerberus, you commanded it. Joker crashed it. _Again._" The turian swears he can almost hear the previous Normandy's pilot cursing at him from whatever far-away planet he was currently residing on. "The Alliance recently decided to build another, from scratch, for our human Spectre here. They're a sentimental bunch."

"Spectre?" Her eyebrows lower in a frown, but her eyes don't leave the turian's hard face. She suddenly notices the scar on the turian's face. "And what happened to _you_?"

Garrus gives pause, before something akin to realization crosses his alien features. "I took a rocket to the face," he chuckles. "I was trying to impress a girl."

Kaidan clears his throat, and Shepard's eyes are drawn once more to the apparent _Spectre_ before her. She looks at him, truly _looks_ at him, and for the first time since the batarian ship she notices the subtle changes in him.

His dark hair is flecked with grey, cropped closer to his scalp than she remembers it ever being. There are creases on his forehead that weren't there before, and his shoulder's are impossibly wider than they should be.

"I've missed out on so much," she mutters in sudden realization.

She finds she has no idea what to do with that information.

Holding her head high, she realises what she has to do.

She has to make do.

She was Commander _Fucking_ Shepard, no matter what they seemed to think, and she was going to damn-well make do. She always did.

"Get these things off of me," she suddenly issues, motioning to her cuffs indignantly. Her tone is not unfriendly, but it still rings with demand. "Anderson has a lot to update me on, it seems. Are we bound for the Citadel?"

Garrus' eyes don't leave her own, his gaze intense. Kaidan shoots him a nervous look that Shepard does not miss. Her heart clenches painfully, and her face pales.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," Kaidan offers, his wide shoulder's slumping.

She is too distracted to realize he has finally said her name.

In the following silence, that says all too much, she doesn't cry, because Shepard never cried.

And she is Commander Jane Shepard.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm sorry guys, but I'm not saying if this is a Shepard/Kaidan or Shepard/Garrus story. It's both, but please don't let that deter you, the ending I've got planned is a happy, albeit bittersweet one, for both shippers.

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Chapter 9

"Please tell me I can sleep in an actual bed tonight," Shepard complains, arching her sore back pointedly. "I think the apparent _savior of the galaxy_ deserves a bit more than a medical bed."

A smirk pulls at the corners of Shepard's mouth.

Kaidan and Garrus had left the medical bay for a few hours, under the pretense of giving Shepard some time alone to think everything through and grasp her bearings. It hadn't helped overly much, but she hopes that the time apart had helped _them_ recover. Garrus had obviously been uncomfortable with the whole situation, and Kaidan had just been plain confused.

Her smirk widens, confident in her ability to still understand her friends.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow at her widening smirk, but doesn't comment on it.

"I can't have you wandering around my ship, raising questions amongst the crew," Kaidan explains, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I don't _wander_," Shepard rolls her eyes, "I swagger in a purposeful manner." She crosses her arms atop her chest in mock indignation.

If Kaidan is thrown by her sudden change in mood, he doesn't show it.

Shepard had simply decided that she would prove to them, and to herself, that she knew, without a doubt, who and what she was. Even if that meant pretending to be fine, when all she wanted to do was curl up in a dark room and sleep for the next few cycles. _Again_.

_What was more Shepard-y than grinning and bearing it, anyway?_ She thinks somewhat bitterly.

Kaidan slowly lowers the overnight back he's had balanced on his shoulder since entering the medical bay minutes earlier, leaning it against his ankle silently.

"Is the ship designed the same as the original?" Shepard asks, reevaluating the small medical bay.

"Somewhat," Kaidan crosses his arms. "It's bigger, mainly."

Shepard doesn't like how proud he seems of this statement. No matter how much _bigger_ it apparently was, it would never be as impressive to her as her first Normandy. It would never be _home_ to her.

"Captain's Cabin still completely separate to the rest of the ship?" she queries. She takes a deep breath, pushing forward and forcing a mocking smile. "And don't get your knickers too much in a twist, Kaidan; I'm not propositioning you. I just want a good night's sleep without feeling like a damn lab rat."

His face remains impassive, giving Shepard no hint as to what he's feeling.

Eventually, he shakes his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"You could have at least given me a chance to be a gentlemen, and let me offer up my room, myself," Kaidan finally responds by way of agreement.

"Can't have that, _Commander,_" Shepard tries out his new title.

Shaking his head, Kaidan reaches down, picking up the handle of the overnight bag by his feet and offering it to Shepard.

Shepard takes a small step forward, and takes it off of his hands, noticing with a twinge of pain how he is cautious of not letting their fingers get too close to touching. She covers up her hurt under the pretense of investigating the contents of the bag.

She is somewhat disappointed to find it is just old clothing. Pulling out a large black hoodie with the _N7 _logo on the breast, she holds the item of clothing up for Kaidan to see.

"What am I, a petulant sixteen year old?" she eyes him with a raised eyebrow.

He simply shrugs.

She pauses, noticing the familiar scrawl of '_Shepard' _on the clothes' tag at the collar. A small "_Oh_" comes unbidden from her lips, and she doesn't say anything more on the matter.

She drops the offending item of clothing onto the bed, and Kaidan turns around without any prompting.

She removes her sweaty medical clothes and promptly pulls the large item of clothing over her head. Pulling back the sleeves, she rifles through the bag until she comes across a pair of familiar black cargo pants. With a satisfied smile, she quickly dons them as well. She pats her clothes down, finally comfortable.

_Even if I _am_ dressed like a teenager,_ she thinks.

"Done?" Kaidan asks when the sound of the bag's zip closing reaches his ears.

"Done," Shepard replies.

She pulls the light overnight bag onto her shoulder easily, there isn't much left with the two biggest items of clothing removed.

Kaidan turns around, not really looking at her. He rubs at his face roughly, drawing attention to the bags under his eyes.

"Please tell me I didn't dress like this," Shepard raises her baggy arms in the arm pointedly, hoping to break the silence.

Finally Kaidan looks at her, and he offers a small smile, his expression reflective. "She really did," Kaidan responds.

Shepard isn't given time to think of a suitable response to his statement, not missing the casual '_she_'. Kaidan is already approaching her, shaking his head with a rueful smile on his lips.

Shepard tenses, not knowing what to expect of her old Lieutenant. He reaches for her shoulders without a sound, her breath catching as she tries to create some kind of eye contact. He pulls the hood of her jacket atop her head, and then turns around and makes his way to the medical clinic's doors.

She pulls her hoodie's sleeves down her suddenly goosebump-covered arms, making to follow him silently.

"Try to keep your head down," Kaidan finally offers over his shoulder, reaching to open the doors.

She nods her head, even though she knows he can't see her. She doesn't trust herself to talk.

Without another word, he leads her quickly from the medical bay, past the kitchens and down a hallway to an elevator. She tries to keep her eyes on Kaidan's feet as he leads her away from prying eyes, but she can't help it. She tries to take everything in as quickly as she can, catching so many unfamiliar faces with their curious eyes on her.

She doesn't recognize anything or anyone.

She hurries to catch up with Kaidan.

Her breath catches in her throat when they make it to the elevator, Kaidan promptly hitting the arrow for _down._

He looks uncomfortable, and his eyes don't leave the closed doors of the elevator, his foot tapping impatiently.

Shepard takes the moment of reprieve from prying eyes to evaluate the hallway, suspiciously eying the many closed doors that sprout off in all directions.

That isn't what truly captures her attention though. It is her name on the wall that finally draws her wide eyes.

'_Commander Shepard.'_

Her mouth hangs open when she realises what she is looking at. It is but one of many plaques on a memorial wall for the fallen.

_Her _plaque.

She stands rooted to the spot, the goosebumps returning, tenfold.

Finally, drawing a ragged breath to calm herself, she dares to continue her evaluation. That is when she finds Anderson's plaque above her own.

'_David Anderson.'_

With a strangled sound, Shepard turns away from the horrible wall, facing the elevator. Uncomfortable doing nothing, she leans across Kaidan, whom she can feel evaluating her silently, to impatiently press at the _down_ button again.

Kaidan offers her no words of consolidation.

She breathes a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally open. She doesn't look back.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks again, everyone, for your continued support and input. It makes me excited to post and share this with you all. Another Shepard chapter, an important one for her development. Next one up is Garrus, and the excitement really begins.

* * *

Chapter 10

The cabin was _huge._

There was a fish tank, no; an _aquarium_, along one wall, an armor rack, a couch, and a work area with a desk and private terminal. The bedroom and work area was segregated by a glass wall with collectables on display and a short flight of stairs. There was even an ensuite with it's own private shower and toilet.

The Normandy was a lot cushier than Shepard ever remembered it being.

Shepard found it hard to believe it was _Kaidan's_ room. She didn't know he knew _how_ to decorate.

Shepard wraps her arms around her torso, hugging her giant hoodie tighter to her body, suddenly very cold and lonely in the ridiculously large room.

Kaidan had offered her an uncomfortable sentiment of making herself comfortable, whilst hurriedly packing up the mess on his table, hazardously piling up everything in sight, before pushing it all to the side.

Formally, he told her that they would be at Arcturus Station II in two days time, and that she should be well rested. The undertones of warning that she should not be leaving the cabin had not been lost on Shepard. Kaidan had then followed up by stuttering through an awkward explanation about where he would be residing for the night, and that he would check on her before lights-out. Apparently she had no say in the matter when it came to the invasion of her new-found privacy. With a curt nod, he had left her to her own thoughts.

She taps at the glass of the tank, frightening some of the smaller fish, the light illuminating her face in a sea of blue colors. The low hum of the tank's VI was oddly soothing.

Turning, she makes her way down the short flight of stairs to the bed. Dropping gracelessly to sit on the side of the mattress, she starts prodding at some buttons on the radio on the side of the bed. Seconds later she is grimacing through a track of odd club music that seems to come from all corners of the cabin.

"Apparently the music hasn't gotten any better since I've been gone," Shepard muses wryly, shutting the music off pointedly.

With a sigh, she falls back onto the mattress, pleased to find it is firm. She sprays her arms out, stretching her body to it's limits and taking up the full area of the bed. She closes her eyes momentarily, enjoying the calm ambiance of the cabin.

Seconds turn into minutes, and with a sleepy snort, Shepard wakes herself with a start, surprised to find she had fallen asleep. Chuckling, she wipes her sleeve along her mouth, which had been hanging open. She blinks contently as she comes to her senses once more.

With a gasp, she notices that the ceiling is missing. There is a giant gaping hole of endless space directly above her. The stars shine mockingly. She can't breath.

She scrambles into a sitting position, clawing her way out of the bed. Shepard stumbles back, into the cabin's wall, uncaring as she knocks one of Kaidan's helmets from the armor stand. Closing her eyes, she controls her breathing, willing herself to wake up.

Shepard concentrates of the calming hum of the tank's VI.

When she is sure she isn't having a nightmare, and that she _definitely_ isn't being sucked into the unforgiving vacuum of space, she wills herself to open her eyes.

_It's a damn skylight, _Shepard discovers, suddenly unexplainably annoyed.

Offering a final glare in the roofs direction, Shepard pulls the covering off of the mattress, bunching the whole of the quilt into her arms. Careful that she doesn't trip on the sides that are already escaping form her struggling grasp, she makes her way to the stairs, and away from the mocking sight of the shining stars.

She stumbles up the few steps, and plunks herself unceremoniously into Kaidan's desk chair, pulling the thick blanket around herself comfortingly. She leans against the desk, watching the fish swim around their tank aimlessly.

It doesn't take Shepard long to bore of the slow moving creatures, swiveling slowly in the chair to investigate this part of the room. Of all the small collectable ships on the wall, one catches her attention above all others. It's a small replica of _her _ SSV Normandy. She smiles fondly at the visage, her curious eyes identifying as many of the other ships as she can. She hadn't pegged Kaidan for the sentimental collectable-inclined type, either.

Once she has identified as many of the ships as she can, her eyes travel to his desk, to the pile of data-pads and picture frames.

Her interest piqued, Shepard pulls the pile towards herself carefully.

She investigates each of the data-pads as she pulls them aside, but turns up nothing overly interesting. The first picture she finds slows her in her investigation, however.

It's a small framed image of herself. It is an old military photograph that was taken when she was first name XO aboard the Normandy, under Andersons command. She looks so young and happy, at first she hadn't recognized herself. She's surprised to find that she's lost weight and her features have become sharper since the trouble with Saren and the Sovereign. Surprised, but not disappointed. The Shepard in the frame is not the woman she is now, she was just a girl in comparison.

Smiling fondly at the thought that Kaidan still thought of her, she puts the frame aside.

A few of the data-pads make mention of terrorist groups in the area, but aside from that, nothing really piques her interest. Until she comes across the last frame.

At first, Shepard is surprised by how many _alien's _are in the photograph. It's obviously not a photo of Kaidan's old Alliance squad. But it is a large group of people, regardless.

Some faces Shepard finds she recognizes, but most are unfamiliar to her. A large group of humans and aliens sit atop and behind a large couch, all smiling and happy.

She is at the forefront of the image. She isn't looking down the lens of the camera, choosing to glance at the turian beside her.

Shepard is surprised to find that she is smiling when she takes in the familiar blue armor and face-paint that identifies this turian as her old squad-mate; Garrus Vakarian. The smile doesn't last long, however, quickly turning into a confused frown when she finds that the turian's hand –talon?- was resting far too comfortably on this Shepard's knee. His piercing blue eyes are only for the woman sitting next to him.

With an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she pushes the frame away, feeling all of a sudden like she is imposing on another woman's life. She can feel heat rising in her cheeks, blushing uncomfortably at her discovery. Guilt and something else, that she can't quite identify, redden her face. She breathes through it, and her skin returns to it's usual colour and temperature.

She stands, the quilt dropping from her lap. In a sudden hurry to hide her guilt, he starts piling up the data-pads and photo frames in their original order. She breathes a sigh of relief when the sight of Garrus' caring gaze, and that woman's happy smile, is hidden from view.

Pulling the quilt around herself on the desk chair, Shepard tries desperately to recapture the comfortable position she had moments before.

No such luck.

She glares at the almost completely hidden frame that peeks out from under the stack of data-pads and the old photo that she actually _remembers_ taking.

_Why hadn't Garrus said anything? _She finds herself thinking. _Where do I stand with Kaidan? _

With a growl, Shepard roughly pushes away from the desk, not liking her trail of thought. She had enough to deal with at the moment. She didn't need to add the concern of worrying about where she stood with Kaidan and Garrus of all people. Even as she thinks this, she knows it's not all as simple as just putting it aside to worry about later.

She drags the quilt behind her like a petulant toddler, and makes her way to the warm glass wall of the tank. She presses her back against the glass and slides down the wall gracelessly, taking the blanket with her. She pulls her knees up to her chest, the quilt around her shoulders, and leans her head against the glowing blue wall with a soft _thud._

Pointedly ignoring the gaping hole above the bed, and the photo on the desk, Shepard closes her eyes. Ignoring the painful tilt of her neck, the sheer emotional exhaustion of the day catches up to her quickly. It doesn't take her long to find the reprieve of sleep.

So exhausted is she, that she doesn't even wake when Kaidan returns to his cabin, hours later, to check on her before he, himself, turns in.

Shepard doesn't hear him as he carefully steps around her prone form to the bed. She doesn't notice his soft footfalls as he returns with a pillow in hand. She is so completely exhausted that she lets him lift her head off the glass wall with gentle, shaking hands. She doesn't resist when he places a pillow behind her head, propping her neck up in a more comfortable manner.

It is only when his familiar rough hands caress her cheek gently, that she offers a small _hum _of approval. Somewhere in her sleep-fogged mind, she thinks she can almost hear her voice softly whisper her lover's name.

And then the warm hand is suddenly gone, and darkness claims her.


	11. Chapter 11

10/23/2013

He doesn't know if he is being overly paranoid, but Garrus can swear that all eyes are on him as he makes his way through the human dominated Alliance ship. People almost seem to stop in their very trails of conversation to watch as he and his two companions hurry through the mess of hallways.

He can hear the whispers of 'turian' on their lips, and he is surprised to find that, even after the Reaper War, fighting side-by-side, human's are still standoffish about his kind.

"I guess I should be thankful that all eyes are on _me_," he mutters to the small woman beside him.

She matches his greater stride with no complaint or trouble.

Shepard had barely offered a word to either Kaidan or himself the past two days, a fact that Garrus had tried to rectify without any success. He had gone to speak to her in the med bay, only to find that she had been moved to Kaidan's quarters. The change had annoyed him at first, but seeing the bulky Commander sleeping on the too-short couch in one of the observations decks had lifted his spirits considerably.

It had taken Garrus another day, mere hours before docking on Arcturus Station II, to work up the courage to talk to Shepard once more. His plan had been simple; he would bring her a meal and offer to brief her in on what they would probably be going over today. The meal had managed to go cold as he paced back and forth before the elevators. This plan had gone no better; ending in frustration aimed in Alenko's direction. The elevator had refused to move, requesting authentication from the Commander himself for Garrus to even _talk_ to Shepard. He'd thrown the plastic tray of food onto the floor of the elevator before storming back to his temporary quarters, silently hoping that Alenko would slip on the mess he had made.

Garrus had calmed down since then, Alenko's sleep deprived appearance upon docking somewhat grounding the turian.

Jolted out of his thoughts, Garrus suddenly realizes that Shepard eyes are still on his face, observing him silently, as if for the first time. Her eyebrows are furrowed, deep in though, before she shakes her head, huffing indignantly. She blows a small tuft of her red human hair our of her eyes.

"I don't think I have anything to worry about. Nobody is going to recognize me in _this_," she motions down at her attire with a wry smirk.

She wears Shepard's old N7 hoodie and a small Alliance cap under the large black hood, hiding her identity from prying eyes.

He exhales in a silent laugh at her reply, happy to see that this Shepard has the same crooked tilt to her lips that his had when she had been self-deprecating.

They say nothing more as they continue to follow Alenko down the winding mess of halls. They stop before large double doors with glazed windows that hint at nothing inside.

A quick scan by the automatic doors allows entrance into the conference room without a fuss, and they make themselves comfortable around the large oval table, the opaque doors sliding closed behind them.

Shepard pulls back the hood as soon as their seated, removing the cap and placing it on the table before her. She doesn't let go of it, pulling at the stitching with her delicate human fingers.

Garrus shifts in his seat, the silence suddenly uncomfortable without the company of busy soldiers and workers. He hadn't realized how noisy it had all been until it was suddenly gone.

A quick glance at Shepard and Alenko to his left hints at none of their discomfort. Self-consciously, he forces himself to stop fidgeting. Seconds later, a grin pulls at his mouth when he can hear the quick telltale tapping of Shepard's foot, probably her right one, under the cover of the tabletop.

"Don't worry, Shepard," Garrus finds himself saying before he can stop himself. "I doubt Udina's going to be joining us today."

He notices that the quiet tapping instantaneously ceases its fast rhythm.

Garrus can almost feel Alenko's insulted glare pointed in his direction, causing him to chuckle. Though he wouldn't admit it, the man's glare is what goads him on further.

"Or at all, really," Garrus continues smugly. "I do believe we have Alenko to thank for that small favour."

He's impressed at Shepard's outwardly calm demeanor, despite another large bit of information that she had not been briefed on yet. Alenko's wish to keep as much from her as possible, until this meeting, had rubbed Garrus the wrong way from the start.

Eventually, she raises an arches eyebrow, turning her face away from the turian, and to her left, to face Alenko.

Despite Alenko's shortcomings, Garrus is impressed that he doesn't crack under Shepard's steady, questioning gaze. The human's brown eyes flicker quickly between the grinning turian and the questioning Shepard, before he manages a casual shrug.

Alenko's voice is even when he says; "That's what happens when you stage a coup on the Citadel alongside Cerberus."

An automated voice alerts them to the granted entry of Admiral Hackett, and the doors slide open. Without pause, both Alenko and Shepard simultaneously stand upright and turn, their right hands resting on their foreheads in a stiff Alliance salute.

_I guess I should be a good turian, _Garrus thinks wryly before following suit. He pushes up slowly from the table and, placing his hands behind his back, offers a courteous bow of his head at the human Admiral.

The Admiral doesn't look much different to the last time Garrus had seen him, but he knows enough about human physiology to know that the grey-haired man is due to start looking into retirement packages.

The Admiral offers a salute back to all of them, but his stern eyes don't leave Shepard's.

"At ease Commanders," he states, before nodding at Garrus, "Major General Vakarian."

It is the respectable, expected military way of greeting, but even Garrus can tell that the old human is holding back when his eyes dart quickly back to Shepard.

A moment of pause, and the Admiral's restraint falters, and the man reaches out a hand to Shepard. The smaller woman takes it after a moment of pause, grasping the man's wrist firmly in her own. She gives it a single firm shake, as is the human custom among well-liked comrades. Or so Shepard had explained to him many years ago.

"_Commander_ Shepard," is all Admiral Hackett says by way of greeting.

Shepard's shoulders droop minutely in sudden relief. It doesn't take Garrus long to realize it is in response to the mention of her title, and he finds himself happy for this small victory, this one constant for this Shepard to hold onto.

Without another word, they reclaim their seats.

The Admiral walks the long way around the oval table, no doubt taking the moment to get his bearings, before sitting directly across from Alenko. He intertwines all of his fingers on the tabletop in front of himself, before giving Alenko a small nod of his head.


	12. Chapter 12

"So, do we have a physical description of this person yet?" Shepard quires Kaidan, not looking at him.

Her voice is filled with intent and a ring of her old command, but her eyes have wandered from his own, focused on a clump of hair that has fallen into her green eyes; a few shades lighter than they had been before the galactic synthesis.

She leans casually against a length of waist-height railing, her back facing any potentially curious pedestrians. She is overlooking a small beer-garden, decorated lavishly with evergreen trees that could only grow on Earth.

Shepard looks exactly as she had before the Reaper War, clad simply in her protocol black Alliance civvies and combat boots. Nothing outwardly set her apart as the extraordinary person she was.

She is devoid of any true means of identification, bearing the insignia of a Private, so as not to further hint at her true identity to any that might care to pry. Kaidan knew better than to hope that he could hide his own identity. Instead, he had merely forgone shaving the previous few mornings, his shaggy appearance suiting the part that he was to play this evening. The inescapable dark bags under his eyes would further cement his act.

Kaidan does his best to keep his voice even when he issues a direct response to Shepard's question. A commander talking to his squad mate.

"The person we're trying to make contact with is human," he says, before shaking his head. "Potentially male." He offers her a shrug. "That's all we've got, and there is the very likely possibility it might not even be correct."

She pulls self-consciously at her recently-colored hair, now a plain black that leaves her face looking sickly pale. Her natural red hair had given her a vibrant hue that had screamed 'Jane Shepard'. The hasty hair treatment had been the perfect way to help her blend more effortlessly into a crowd.

Shepard doesn't seem all too fazed by their lack of information. That was why, after all, _they_ were being sent in. They had worked with far less in the past.

Besides, this was personal for all of them.

The very fact that Hackett had briefed them on this mission had been an unexpected gift that Kaidan wasn't going question. If anyone else had been involved in the seemingly mundane task of gathering Intel in a small British pub, they would have to have been briefed on Shepard's return. Kaidan wasn't ready for the impossible event to become galaxy-wide knowledge. Not until they knew more about the group that this version of Shepard, this _clone, _had been intended for. If Hackett's instincts were correct, they were about to find a contact that would lead them to this knowledge.

"Alenko, I'm in position. Got a good view of the main room." Garrus' voice interrupts over Kaidan's comm. Kaidan lifts his hand to his ear, to drown out the surrounding noise. "Nobody looks overly suspicious at the moment." Garrus pauses. "Other than the turian sitting by himself in an Alliance bar, of course," the turian adds dryly, before cutting out.

Kaidan drops his hand from his ear, offering Shepard's raised eyebrow a small nod.

She lets her fingers fall away from her unnaturally black hair, stepping away from the railing before standing to her full height.

She offers him a somewhat playful salute, her lips curling at the corner.

"Well." She takes a deep breath. "Lets go get drunk, Commander," Shepard finishes boldly.

Shepard's hand drops back to her side, and she starts towards the nearby pub's entrance with a casual stride.

"You'd think death would have taught you some humility," he impulsively says through a mutter.

He notices, with a small cringe, that her shoulders tense. She doesn't miss a stride, however, and she doesn't look over her shoulder at him. He finds he is glad to hear no hostility in her tone when she finally responds.

"And you'd think all of that grey hair you're sporting would have made you wiser, Kaidan," she shoots back with a quick laugh.

He doesn't give her the satisfaction of a response, but finds that her cheer has calmed him somewhat.

The banter was the closest he had come to really communicating with Shepard since they had found her on the Batarian ship, their usual pre-mission banter making his chest ache with nostalgia.

With a calm smile, Kaidan realises that, no matter what information they do or do not get from their contact tonight, he is happy he has Shepard by his side to complete a seemingly impossible goal. Even if it isn't _quite_ how he had wanted it to be.

Even if _she_ isn't quite how he wanted her to be.

She was still Shepard, and that was all that mattered when the bullets started flying.

He follows her into the pub, ready.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Shepard**

The pub was busy, as one would expect on a Friday night, in a rebuilding city where there wasn't much else to do. Most of the men and women were Alliance soldier's in uniform, relaxing after a long day of work. Scattered amongst them were dirty faces tradespeople, as welcome as any high-ranking soldier in this time of repair. Whilst it was a pub on the outskirts of London, there was too big a variety of accents and skin tones to really know where one was just by looking at the locals. Shepard finds she likes the idea of all of humanity, and all of the galaxy's species, rebuilding as one. If only she could have seen them all fighting as one unified front, as well.

"Cheapest lager you have on tap, thanks," Kaidan shouts over the sound of burly laughter and clanking classes.

"Sure thing, Hun," the young bartender offers him an appreciative glance. She motions towards Shepard whom stood closely by his side. "And you?" Her tone doesn't hold the same sweet ring to it, for Shepard.

"Vodka," Shepard shouts back with a smirk. "And don't skimp on the quality; fanciest you've got, _Hun_."

If the drinks were being paid for by Kaidan tonight she was going to damn well make the most of it.

The bartender purses her painted lips, offering Kaidan a final glance from under long lashes before rapidly going about their order.

Kaidan glances at Shepard, shaking his head as he passes his chit over the register.

"If this is the first drink this brand new body is having," Shepard starts with a hand on her cocked hip, "It's damn well not going to be the cheap shit."

Kaidan doesn't say anything to her bold words; the closest she had come to openly acknowledging the fact that she wasn't _quite_ Shepard. He merely replaces his chit, and turns away from the bar, scoping out the crowded room silently.

Despite her words, Shepard felt good. Better than she had in a long time. Probably ever, if her first real moment was waking up amongst Batarians. She knew enough about her past self to know why she felt so damn good. She had a mission; a purpose. This was what she was good at. This was what she was made for.

The bartender comes back to press a few buttons on the register's screen, before handing Shepard their two drinks. She doesn't offer Shepard another word as she turns away to serve another; a beefy Alliance soldier a few feet away from them.

"I guess I'm not getting served unless I'm with a beefcake," Shepard mutters under her breath, handing Kaidan his lager.

"Hmm?" Kaidan responds, not looking at her as his eyes sweep over any potential threats in the vicinity.

He takes the lager off of her absentmindedly, taking a pathetically small sip of the drink.

_If he doesn't feel safe in an Alliance pub, where would he let loose? _Shepard finds herself wondering. _Then again, probably not with his dead ex-girlfriend. _She shakes off her dark thoughts.

"It's nothing," Shepard responds quickly.

She takes a large mouthful of her clear drink, trying desperately to hide the automatic impulse to scrunch up her face as the liquid burns a course down her throat.

"Nope," she says through a grimace. "Even the expensive stuff tastes like burning ass." She finishes her curse off with another large gulp of the offending liquid, downing a majority of it in one fell swoop.

"Slow down," Kaidan mutters around another tiny sip of his drink.

"Relax, Kaidan," Shepard rolls her eyes. "Garrus has got his eyes on us." She nudges him in the ribs, causing some of his drink to spill. "Besides. We've got to keep up appearances. Who comes to a pub to _sip_? That's just suspicious."

Garrus had been sitting in one of the corners of the pub, nursing a blue drink in his talons. He hadn't even been looking in their direction when they had entered the premises, but a barely noticeable nod of his head, in beat to the music, had been the only hint of his knowledge that they were there. She had no doubt that he would not loose sight of them. Even if they couldn't always see him.

"The Lieutenant, over there," Kaidan responds.

He nods his head in the direction of a lone man in uniform, leaning against the wall that turns into the hall to the restrooms. His foot is propped casually against the wall, and his head nods slowly to the blaring music. He holds a barely touched drink in his hands.

In response to Kaidan's observation, Shepard finishes the last of her drink before slamming it onto the bar's counter.

When she turns back to face Kaidan once more, she fights a gasp at his sudden close proximity. She notices with worry that he is more than a few hours past a five o'clock shadow, and he hasn't been sleeping well. New lines of past worries crease his forehead, and his eyes bear the eerie green tint that all living beings now share. His lips hadn't changed though, they were still chapped, and full, and tempting…

When he finally speaks, his warm breath leaves goosebumps on her skin, his voice low and secretive.

"Garrus," he suddenly says, his voice full of intent.

Shepard frowns, confusion settling in.

"Garrus?" she all but whispers.

"The man by the hall. Has he moved at all tonight?" Kaidan continues, unheeding of her words, his eyes setting on somewhere over her shoulder.

Shepard offers a small, nervous chuckle, silently cursing her momentary stupor.

_Wouldn't want people thinking he was talking to himself, _Shepard silently chastises herself.

He frowns as he listens to Garrus' response, before nodding. Slowly, he pulls away from Shepard, to lean against the bar once more. He takes another sip of his drink before placing the barely touched lager onto the counter besides her empty glass.

"I think he's our man," he offers Shepard in response to her raised eyebrow.

She offers him a wane smile before reaching for the last of his lager. Kaidan doesn't say anything as she practically finishes the bitter liquid.

If she wasn't allowed her rifle, the drinks were going to have to be her means of courage.

With a final apologetic glance, she squares her shoulders. Kaidan's answering smile only encourages her to do what must be done.

Shepard throws the last of his drink in his face.

The action shocks a small gasp out of him, the amber liquid beading and dripping off the tip of his nose.

"You're such a hypocrite!" she hisses through gritted teeth, resulting in a few glances in their direction.

He takes a moment to get his bearings, but when he does, his wide eyes are completely replaced by a glare of barely controlled anger. If Shepard didn't know any better, that look alone would have been cause for concern.

"Can we take this outside?" He grits out loudly, grabbing ahold of her upper arm.

A few tables away, a group of soldiers are nodding in their direction, elbowing each other in the ribs, enthused grins on their alcohol-flushed faces.

Shepard rips her arm away from his touch, the feeling of his fingers, even through the fabric of her shirt, warming her cheeks.

_Good, _she thinks. _It will make me look even angrier. _

"So you can badmouth your old Commander like a coward?" Shepard manages to raise her voice to a high screech, throwing her arms out as if to bring attention to the many soldiers that surround them.

"I wasn't," Kaidan starts, before Shepard cuts him off.

"You weren't _what_?" Shepard crosses her arms, her voice still loud enough to hear over the music. Those around them had quieted to a whisper, nearly all eyes were on them. "You weren't just saying that Shepard was wrong? That she should have just gone and _killed all synthetics? _That's mass genocide, you bastard!"

She could hear a woman, a table away, whisper the words 'is that Commander Alenko?' to the man beside her.

Shepard fights back the urge to glance away from Kaidan's seemingly enraged countenance. She can hear the telltale sound of chairs scraping against the floor as people rush to push away from their tables. The whispers grow in volume, and she can hear multiple heavy footsteps approaching them.

Whilst Kaidan's eyes have yet to leave her own, she can tell he has heard them too. His eyes widen slightly, as if to encourage her on. He nods his head, ever so minutely.

So Shepard punches him in the face. Her fist grazing across his cheek, right into his nose. His head snaps back with a painful crack.

Grimacing, Shepard waves out her fist, flexing her fingers.

Kaidan clutches at the bar's tabletop with white fingers. The room falls silent, the only sound Kaidan's gasping breath, barely drowned out by the blaring music. It doesn't take him long to get his bearings. Leaving a hand to balance himself, he stands to his full height, using his free arm to wipe away a small trickle of blood from his nose. He doesn't say anything, and Shepard turns away from him with a small apologetic wince.

She squares her shoulders.

"Thanks for the drink, _Kaidan_," she hisses, with as much bitterness as she can manage.

Shepard brushes past a large Alliance solider, whom had, up until that moment, probably intended to also hit Kaidan in the face. Or worse.

Pausing, the man chuckles at Kaidan's bleeding nose, and turns to Shepard.

"Damn, that's a hell of a right hook, girl," he praises through his chuckle.

The man pats her on the back, causing her to stumble, and then makes his way back to his seat. His laughter encourages similar responses among his comrades.

Shepard breathes a sigh of relief when the many men and women back down, returning to their seats. The whispers grow in volume and then the pub's ambience returns to normal. Shepard manages a chuckle when the bartender doesn't offer the bleeding Kaidan any help and a large circle of distance forms between him and everyone else.

She makes towards the table she had seen Garrus sitting at earlier in the evening, flexing her fingers.

A quick glance in the hall's direction shows that the lone man was paying attention, his eyes intent and definitely interested in what had just taken place.

She forces a small smile, ducking her head, as people reach out to pat her on the back, or grasp her shoulder, as she passes them.

Fighting the urge to give Kaidan an apologetic glance as he wipes at his face with a napkin, she forces her way through strangers' appraisal to return to Garrus' side.

She would just have to hope that Kaidan knew what he was doing, because the next part was up to him.

Shepard doesn't miss the amused twinkle in Garrus' bright eyes when she pulls up a chair next to him. She practically falls into the seat, resisting the urge to check if their potential contact was making a move.

"I think _this_," the turian hums in amusement, motioning around them with a smile, "is my new favorite place in the galaxy."

**Thanks again for all of your support and reviews. More soon. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Garrus**

Garrus could see that Shepard was fighting off the urge to glance back in Alenko's direction. Her leg was fidgeting under the table again, but she managed restraint. She was shaking her head, a small curve to her lips, as she kneaded her many fingers in a tight grip.

Her bright eyes were on him, and –with a pang of sudden pain- he saw that lively spark that he realized had almost faded completely from his memory. That glint of her exotically human eyes that was so _Shepard. _That look that said 'this is crazy and might get us killed, but damn if it isn't fun'.

"Enjoying yourself?" he couldn't help but ask through a chuckle.

"Don't read into it too much, Vakarian," Shepard said with a respondent chuckle. "Just happy to be doing _something_ that doesn't include moping." She lifts the vodka Garrus had preemptively ordered for her a few minutes before she had accompanied him. "Particularly when that _something_ includes an abundance of free booze."

Garrus raise his glass to her own in the old human gesture.

"I didn't peg you for the moping type," Garrus manages when their glasses clink, his tone casual.

"I'm not," Shepard responds far too quickly. "That's why I'm happy to be back in action." She shrugs it off nonchalantly.

She looks away, towards a table of boisterous young marines, deliberately hiding her eyes from him.

"Has Buzzcut from the hallway made a move, yet?" she breaks the growing silence, still not looking at him.

The Alliance soldier that bore the Lieutenant insignia was eyeing the room intently, his gaze hard. His eyes would glance back to Kaidan every now and then, but otherwise, he was yet to make a move.

"Not yet," Garrus shakes his head, looking back at Shepard. "Doesn't mean it's not him. He definitely smells."

Shepard snorts into her drink. "Smells?" she asks over the rim with a raised eyebrow. "_Smells fishy_, you mean? Careful, Garrus; you're starting to sound human. Almost."

"I guess I just spent far too much with this human Commander of mine, back in the day," Garrus grins. "Bad influence, if you ask me."

Shepard's grin slowly fades and she goes about taking a large mouthful of her clear drink. She places the glass onto the table with a lackluster chuckle.

"You and I…" she pauses, coughing. "You two were close, I take it?" Shepard presses after a moment of pause, her eyes darting back to the table of marines uncomfortably.

Garrus wasn't entirely convinced he was ever going to truly understand humanity's way of double-edged implication and hidden inferences, but even he understood that there was more to what Shepard had just asked of him. He could see it in the way she shifted in her seat to avoid his eyes.

Then again, he always had been a paranoid turian.

So he let it slide and answered the safest question on the table. He would not lie to her, but neither would he choose to bring up memories that were best left buried. Buried along with _his_ Shepard.

He would not pick at old wounds that would just make her uncomfortable.

"Yeah, we were," he chuckles, scratching at his neck. "No Shepard without Vakarian," _and no Vakarian without Shepard_, his mind adds bitterly. "Couldn't trust anyone but the best to watch the _galaxy's savior's _six."

If she is disappointed by his stiff –but not whole- admission, she doesn't show it.

Shepard merely rolls her eyes, smirking. "I see you managed to get even cockier."

"Saving the galaxy does that to a person," Garrus responds quickly, shrugging it off with a smile. "You wouldn't understand. Much more to it than merely saving the Citadel."

Garrus lets his gaze wander lazily over her shoulder, to the man by the hallway. He was still silently observing everyone in the room.

"Then you'll have to tell me about it," Shepard insists suddenly, her voice ringing of her old command. "And about who I could have become if I had been woken earlier and hadn't missed everything." She says it as a joke, but she can't hide the bitterness creeps into her tone.

Garrus' eyes snap back to her own intent gaze. He knew now that he hadn't misunderstood her before. She intended to hear _everything_ about the person Shepard had evolved into once the entire galaxy was at stake. Not just _what_ that person had achieved.

He raises his own drink this time, initiating the illogical human habit. "I guess I will," he promises her.

She doesn't look away to the happy marines this time. Shepard holds his gaze, squaring off her shoulders as she raises her glass in toast.

They don't notice the man by the hallway mutter a few silent words, seemingly to himself, before making in Kaidan's direction. They don't notice as a group of four soldiers push away from their table as one, suddenly silent.

Garrus is so terribly distracted by Shepard's words and her intent gaze, that he doesn't even question the group of four as they detour casually towards their table.

Its too late when he acknowledges their bulky forms in his peripheral vision. His hands tenses on his drink, resulting in Shepard's eyes widening slightly. Instinctively, she pushes up from the table, her body poised and ready. A large hand on her shoulder stops her, pushing her back into her seat.

Garrus slowly reaches for the small pistol on his lap, cursing himself silently.

The sight of Shepard tensing as the uniformed man sidles up to her gives him pause. A pistol that is definitely not Alliance standard is pressed firmly to her ribs. With his free arm, the man pulls a chair alongside Shepard, a grin on his face as he seats himself.

Another Alliance soldier edges closer to him, his own gun held close to his thigh, hidden from all the other patron's eyes. He eyes Garrus' own hidden weapon pointedly. Garrus makes no move to relieve himself of it. But neither does he use it.

This was supposed to be a covert mission; get in, get the information, get out. Obviously that hadn't quite gone to plan, but it would still not do to have an open gunfight in a pub full of people who would almost certainly arrest them. Their new _friends_ were obviously on the same page on this point.

The large man sitting by Shepard's side slides his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her closer to him. The roughness of the action results in an angry hiss from Shepard, murder in her glare. Garrus drops his pistol to the floor with a low growl.

"You got our attention," the man by Shepard's side states, smiling down at her.

The predatory look in the man's eye infuriates him, but the turian controls his rage.

The smallest of their group, a wiry looking man with a scar on his forehead, seats himself in a chair between Garrus and the man holding Shepard.

Garrus can hear the telltale sound of the man's weapon powering on under the table.

"And I do believe we now have yours," the wiry man finishes with a smirk.

Swearing under his breath, Garrus avoids Shepard's glance as she rolls her eyes. He does not miss the small beads of sweat on her forehead, nor the flush to her cheeks, however. She was nervous. She knew their odds of getting out of this quietly were slim. The world wasn't ready for Shepard's return yet. Somehow, despite everything, it made sense to Garrus that her initiation back into the world would be a messy bar fight with Alliance turncoats.

Garrus doesn't miss Kaidan's quick glance in their direction, alarm written all over his pale face. The man from the hallway stands across from him, leaning casually against the bar, a lazy smile on his lips. Kaidan's hand hovers over the holstered pistol at his thigh.

The pub continues on as usual, unaware of the potential firefight looming.

Garrus was never going to live this down.


End file.
